


193 - Unexpected Babies & Super Cute Prep

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Dad Van, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 20:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17393288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “fic about van and his fiancé get unexpectedly pregnant and her parents are a bit unsupportive because they think she’s too young and van supports her and the baby ends up beautiful and loved and her parents love they’re baby boy in the end!!” “Maybe you could write a story about van and his wife or something, getting ready for a baby.” and “a fic where the reader had a stressful day at uni and she decides to have a little pamper night, and while putting on her face mask, Van asks her about what she was up to & one thing leads to another and she’s putting a face mask on Van?”





	193 - Unexpected Babies & Super Cute Prep

Bernie and Mary were over the moon. That was predictable though. The baby may have been unplanned, but it was a baby to be loved nonetheless. Your own parents, Eve and Sasha, were significantly less thrilled. As you sat in their kitchen, Van's hand on your thigh under the table, you listened to them say all the things you knew they would.

"You're so young, Y/N. How are you going to juggle uni and a baby? Or are you just going to drop out?" the more practical of your two mothers, Sasha, asked.

"How could you be so stupid?" the emotional Eve added, mostly directing the question at Van.

"Look, yeah, we're young, but it ain't like we're out partying every weekend. I work hard and we have plenty of money to raise a kid with. I've always wanted kids and I'm gonna be the best dad and I love Y/N to bits. This is a good thing. It's just… happening earlier than we would have planned, but that's alright," Van said. There was a desperation in his voice that meant he wanted their approval. He never had before, but a baby was set to change everything. Van wanted every single person that would ever come into contact with his child to be unconditionally in love with them, from the very start.

"You guys know a thing or two about disapproval, yeah? Why are you being like this?" you asked. Sasha smirked with raised eyebrows; you'd made a point she thought was valid. Eve scoffed.

"That's a very unfair comparison, Y/N. You accidentally got pregnant. We wanted you and we waited so long. The reason people judged us-" Eve said. You knew why people judged them. How on Earth could two women possibly raise a baby?! How would the baby learn about what it means to be a real man? And God forbid it's a little girl! She'd probably turn out gay too! The fucking horror! 

"Doesn't matter why people judged you. You knew you could do it. So do we. So just… Give us a fuckin' break."

On the drive home, to the house that Van had only just bought and that you didn't technically live in, you felt empty.

"Twenty is young to have a kid. I was only nineteen a month ago,"

"Nah, we'll be fine, Y/N," he said. He had so much faith, and it would have to be enough for the both of you.

…

After the mixed reaction of your future child's grandparents, you held off telling anybody else about the baby. It was hard because seemingly out of nowhere Van was apprehensive about touring and about the future of the band. Everyone was worried and they kept asking you if something was wrong. Over beers one night, Bondy watched you carefully. You'd declined smokes and wine. You looked at him. 

"Why you staring?" 

"I fucking knew it! You're fuckin' preggers, yeah?" 

And that was it. The word spread fast, Van McCann was finally but already starting his little family. Your friends made jokes about being so young too, but they were unconditional in their support. 

Benji's parents owned a truck, and let him borrow it to help pick up a bunch of furniture from Ikea. There was a semi-fight about that alone. Van said that Ikea wasn't good enough for his kid, because what if there was a screw loose or a corner too sharp. No, he could afford the best hand crafted furniture. Rolling your eyes, you told him that he'd just have to build the flat packs really well. It would be fine.

Larry and Van painted the baby's to-be bedroom. You stood in the doorway monitoring. "Babe! The fumes! Get out," Van kept saying, pushing you into the hallway. The colour was a pretty mint green, but the application was not perfect. When they emerged at the end of the first day of painting, they were covered themselves. "Warpaint," Van explained. Of course. 

When Van was across the country, Mary took you to an ultrasound. She held back tears and posted the sonography photo to her Facebook. After, you went out to lunch with her and listened to Van's entire life story again, from pre-conception to the day he met you and she just knew you were the one.

Van got home to a rearranged house. Mostly your friend's had pushed stuff around, but you did a bit of the heavy lifting. Van guessed that before you answered his question about if you did. "You lifted a fuckin' arm chair?"

"It moved a couple of metres. It's fine," 

"What if you got hurt?" 

"I didn't," 

"But what if," he repeated, frustrated. 

"Since when do you care about what ifs?" 

"Since you got our baby growing inside you and everything you do matters," 

"Wowza, Van. You're freaking me out. Take a chill pill," you replied with a laugh and walked off.

It continued like that for months: people helping out, Van being worried about every move you made, and your own parents remaining distant.

...

When the paint dried in the baby's room, you got to decorate. You had a million ideas you'd seen on Pinterest, and Van was very much in the business of indulging your every wish. He'd only had one himself. A large world map was hung across a wall. "So you can always show them where I am when I'm not here," Van said. It was too adorable but had an edge of sadness to it.

Van covered the ceiling with glow in the dark stars. They swirled around in family-made galaxies, waiting to light up the night for your baby. Above the crib was a mobile made with flowers and feathers. You wanted nature to be in the room, so non-toxic leafy greens were planted in a box along the windowsill. You'd bought two aqua three-tier trolleys from Ikea. They would house nappies and powder and baby wipes. Neat and organised. In one corner of the room, a rocking chair sat, and another was piled high with pillows and teddies. There were shelves on the wall that would display your favourite picture books. After the final book was placed on the shelf, you collapsed on the couch. Your belly was a balloon and felt like it was made of lead. Every single part of your body ached. 

"You should have a bath," Van said. "Want me to do that?" You nodded. He returned in a few minutes with a headband and a pot of face mask from Lush. "Here," he said, and knelt next to you. He pushed your hair away from your face with the headband and started to gently cover your skin with the cool, chocolatey mask. 

"I could do this myself," you whispered, watching his expression of intense concentration. 

"Could. Don't have to. You have to push out a baby. Let me do everything else," he replied, voice also a whisper. 

When you were masked, you followed him into the bathroom and undressed. The water was warm and bright orange with swirls of glitter through it. You hadn't had a bath without a bomb or bubble bar in years. 

"All good? Need anything?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe. 

"You," you said, splashing at the water like you'd pat the seat next to you. He made a sound of apprehension. "Please? And bring the mask." 

Still in that wish business. You sat between Van's legs as he let you put the mask on him too. 

"It's fine when it's all cold and wet, but as soon as it goes all flaky it's gross," he said. 

"Doesn't flake if you don't talk." 

You laid back against the tub, thankful that when Van had bought the house he'd considered your love for baths and made sure it was grand enough. The not talking thing lasted only a couple of minutes. 

"Your mums any closer to not hating our baby?" he asked. 

"Van. They don't hate the baby. They just... They're worried we can't do this, or that I won't get my own life or whatever," 

"But we can do this," 

"Yeah, I know that," you said, reassuring him. 

"And... this is the life you want, right?" 

"Uh-huh. I'm not going to freak out on you. And they'll come around. Actually, we should invite them over to see the room." 

So, you did. 

They arrived for a Sunday lunch. Eve stood at the doorway of the pastel mint room. 

"You can go in," you said. She looked over at you, her face blank. Emotionless. Stepping in, she looked around and you knew she'd find all the details. All the pieces of your own childhood already embedded into your baby's. She picked up an old teddy bear. 

"I remember when I bought this for you," she whispered. 

Van and Sasha appeared. 

"This looks good," she said. "Some green on the roof though," 

"That was Larry," Van replied. 

"I got it the first time I was away from you," Eve continued. "It killed me, not having you there." She looked up at Van. "How are you going to travel so much? It's going to kill you too," 

"Yeah. Probably. Don't think it will be easy or anythin'. But, you know, you did it and Y/N turned out gorgeous and good. We'll work it out," he replied. The sureness in his voice was evident, even to them. Your mother looked at him a little while longer, put the teddy back, then nodded. 

…

When the baby rolled into the world, perfect and screaming, all four of his grandparents were there. Your favourite part of Dylan, besides everything, was the tuff of red hair on his head. Bernie exploded into a deep laugh when he saw it.

"Those Irish roots! Can't escape them!" 

Dylan's skin was so white you could see his veins underneath. It was creepy and you liked to point it out to everyone that came to visit. 

"Look at this fuckin' alien baby," you'd laugh. Van frowned.

"Why you already bullying our kid?" 

"I'm not! I love his creepy alien skin," you beamed. 

"S'not an alien. He's beautiful," Van replied, taking Dylan from you and rocking him.

"Yeah, you would say that. He looks exactly like you! Look how long his eyelashes are!" 

It was easy to fall in love with Dylan and watching Van with him made you love him all the more too. He handed Dylan over to Eve carefully.

"Wouldn't be so mean, Y/N. You were a strange looking baby,"

"What? I was cute!"

"Your head was huge," Sasha said. Van sniggered. You raised an eyebrow at him.

"He really does look like you, Van," Eve said, looking up.

"Honestly, he's a prettier baby than Van was," Mary said, standing next to Eve, looking over the bundle of blankets at Dylan. "He had a big head too,"

"Still does, hey mate?" Bernie said, patting Van on the back.

"All babies are a bit weird looking. Nobody wants to say that though," a nurse said passing through to bring you a fresh jug of water.

"Weird is good. I like my little gingerbread alien baby," you replied with a shrug.

"Thought everyone was meant to be all fuckin' warm and loving and stuff when a baby is born? Why you all out here havin' a go at us?" Van said. Everyone ignored him, too busy falling in love with Dylan.

... 

For all the worry about being too young, for all the unknowns about Van touring and your university career, it all fell into place easily. Neither of you felt alone or rushed or robbed. Dylan was too fucking perfect for any of that. 

Wriggling around in his crib, you and Van watched him for hours on end. You'd pull the rocking chair over and watch him through the bars. Van would take his place on the floor, Little Mary asleep in his lap. Nothing was said, it didn't need to be. Your baby was born and wanted and loved and a weird little alien, and that was everything and that was enough.


End file.
